


253 Days of Open-Heart Surgery

by saltwatergirl



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angry Sex, Angst, Future Fic, M/M, Romance, Smut, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-21
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2018-04-10 13:10:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4393214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltwatergirl/pseuds/saltwatergirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn leaves the band, Liam is devastated. 253 days later, he shows up on Liam’s doorstep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	253 Days of Open-Heart Surgery

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks again, [Equallydestructive](http://archiveofourown.org/users/equallydestructive) for the beta read.
> 
> The title and narrative structure of the story was inspired by (500) Days of Summer.

**_LIAM, DAYS 1-7_ **

It hadn't sunk in yet when they landed in Lanseria Airport.

They were escorted through customs and into a Mercedes C-Class to begin the drive to the game farm. It was the middle of the night and the motorway was deserted. The others were quiet. Harry was on his cell phone and Niall was watching a video on his laptop, yet Liam could still feel their eyes glancing at him occasionally, curious to see if he was near breaking point.

Liam didn't know which was worse; the fact they didn't ask whether he was okay or that they fully expected him to fall apart at any second. He wished Louis was here. He would break the silence by making a joke or two.

"Fuck Zayn. We don't need him," Louis would say. He'd bring up the elephant in the room because he was Louis and if he wasn't brash and forward to a fault, then he wasn't being himself. But Louis wasn't here, as he was flying in the next day.

There was just the desolate road up ahead.

#### ***

There are nine thousand and thirty-nine kilometres between Johannesburg and London. It wasn’t the furthest he had travelled from home; it wasn’t even a top five contender.

But fuck, he felt as if he had fallen over the edge of the world. It was a nature resort, he understood that, but did it have to be so fucking quiet?

He didn’t need calm. He didn’t need tranquillity. He wanted to be in a dimly lit club, dancing alongside a beat until his bones vibrated. He grabbed his earphones and played Drop the World by Lil Wayne, allowing the lyrics to flow through him. _I got ice in my veins, blood in my eyes. Hate in my heart, love in my mind_.  

He made a vow to himself - he wasn't going to spend the rest of the tour missing Zayn.

#### ***

 The second day at the safari resort, they took a bushveld drive. It was midmorning, but the day already felt blisteringly hot. Liam’s T-shirt clung to him like a second skin from the humidity. They were driven out to a watering hole to watch a herd of elephants.

When he was younger, Liam used to enjoy visiting the zoo. Watching the exotic animals in captivity as an adult upset him. The rest of the group clicked away on their cameras and he was reminded of arriving at an airport and being hounded by the paps. Being told to smile at the cameras and pretend that the entire thing wasn’t maddening. Because it was, after a while. Especially for Zayn and Harry, who somehow got the worst of it all. But still –

Leaving without as much as a backward glance? Liam put on his sunglasses and waited for the tour vehicle to take them back to the resort.

#### ***

Liam posted his twit longer about Zayn leaving the band and was reading the fans’ reaction to the tweet when his cellphone buzzed. Zayn was calling him. Liam watched his phone light up, vibrating across the restaurant table. He didn’t pick up. As the song went, ‘It’s too late to apologise’.

 He unlocked his phone and clicked open his contacts. When he found Zayn’s contact profile he scrolled down to select ‘block this caller’.

#### ***

Liam realised that Zayn was really gone when they performed at FNB Stadium. They were performing "What Makes You Beautiful" and the crowd was amazing, singing along as loud as they could, all sixty-five thousand of them. They reached Harry's solo and did the formation with a Zayn-shaped ghost beside them.

Liam felt the prick of tears stinging his eyes and he blinked through them. Instead of being on stage with him, Zayn was nine thousand and thirty-nine fucking kilometres away.

#### ***

They left Cape Town at dawn.

The anguish was still as fresh as when he received that call from Simon a week ago.  Liam recalled Simon’s crisp, no-nonsense voice spewing words and Liam had thought he had surely heard wrong, because Zayn, _his Zayn_ , would never leave without saying a word. They’d _promised_ , all five of them, that they were all in.

Yet Simon was talking about a media blackout. No tweets, no comments, documents from the lawyer to be signed, and repeating after Liam had asked for third time that ‘No, Zayn isn’t coming back’.

“But-” Liam remembered saying. Simon had reiterated that there would be no talking to the press. Liam had agreed and hung up. Travelling between Jakarta and Johannesburg, Liam had lost his heart and it was somewhere in the world, beating outside his chest. 

“One more show,” he whispered to himself. One more show in Dubai and then he could go home. He would go on with his life and not think about a boy who he’d thought had hung the moon and back. He would give the fans one hell of a show. He’d do all of this because if he didn’t, he couldn’t imagine getting out of bed in the mornings.  

He would put on this death mask of a smile and one day it would mould with his skin and he would be whole again. He had to believe this because the alternative was just too bleak to even contemplate.

**_ZAYN, DAY 253_ **

Zayn woke and swore under his breath. He glanced at the clock beside his bed:Fifth of December. Today was the day. He fell back on the bed and stared at the ceiling, mustering up the strength to get up, shower, and go where he'd promised himself he’d go months back.

He had to see Liam in person. He couldn’t let their relationship fester like this. It had been eight long, incredibly painful months and he didn't think he could go another day, let alone a week without at least trying to fix them. Liam was home. Zayn had seen the picture of him shopping on The Sun's website yesterday.

Zayn got up and went to the bathroom. He used the loo, brushed his teeth, and climbed into the shower. Afterwards, he tied a white towel around his waist before he walked back into his bedroom. He opened his wardrobe, looking for something to wear. He pulled out his best pair of jeans, a button-down Louis Vuitton shirt, and put them on. Next, he put on his favourite pair of earrings before he grabbed his car keys.

Two hundred and fifty-three fucking days. How the hell had so much time passed without him speaking to Liam? There was a stage in their lives when a _day_ wouldn’t go by without there being some communication between Liam and himself in the form of a call, texts, or emails.

In the last eight months he had seen Liam at music award shows, a film screening, and two sports events. Liam, ever the professional, had nodded at Zayn if the cameras were on them, never letting the overeager press become aware that Zayn's departure from the band had been acrimonious.

Two hundred and fifty-three days had passed since Zayn boarded a private jet in Hong Kong and headed back to London without saying a word to four people he’d worked with for five years. What would he say to Liam? He'd gone over this in his head a few times and Liam's reaction varied. Sometimes Liam slammed his front door right in Zayn's face, refusing to let him in. Sometimes Liam pulled Zayn into his arms and hugged him. Yeah, right. Like the latter was going to happen. Liam was angry at him. The ignored emails and blocked calls were proof of that. Zayn would be lucky if he even got through the front door.

Zayn was out of the house and in his car, driving to Liam’s house in record time. When he pulled up at the address, he was glad that it seemed quiet with no random paps lurking in the bushes trying to get a picture. He eased the car into the driveway and buzzed the intercom at the gate, gazing up at the security cameras mounted on the wall. He thought for sure that the gate would stay closed and he would have to make the trek back to his house.

There was no response from the other side of the intercom, but the large gates rolled back its motorised wheels. Zayn revved his car and sped through, coming to a halt in the front of the main entrance of the house. He climbed out and walked up the stairs. Before he had the opportunity to knock, the front door opened and he saw Liam.

"Hello," Zayn said. Liam was barefoot, dressed in jeans and a white T-shirt. Zayn ran a hand through his hair as he met Liam’s eyes. "May I come in?"

Liam stepped aside, allowing Zayn to walk into the place. The silence was unnerving. Zayn expected Liam to demand to know why he was here and what he wanted. But nothing. Those brown eyes were unreadable, Liam’s face a tight mask. Liam walked to the living room, Zayn following after him.

In the living room, the big screen TV was on with a muted cooking show playing. It was a repeat of The Naked Chef. Zayn sat down on the sofa. Liam remained standing, flipping through a stack of envelopes he had on the entertainment centre.

"You're probably wondering what I'm doing here," Zayn said after a moment. "I'm wondering that myself. I mean, it's been months. I just feel things weren't resolved between us. I tried contacting you afterwards, especially when you thanked me at the Billboard Awards, but you changed your phone number. You never responded to any of the messages I sent you either." Zayn paused, running out of steam. Would Liam just look at him? "Liam, please. I'm trying to apologise here."

Liam placed the letters back on the entertainment stand and turned, glaring at Zayn. "Just say what you're here to say and leave."

"I'm sorry," Zayn said. "I’m sorry I didn't tell you how unhappy I was. I'm sorry I just left like that. I'm sorry I never- I'm just sorry."

"You didn't even say goodbye to us," Liam said.

 There was a reason for that. If there was one person in the world who could have convinced Zayn to stay, it would have been Liam. And he couldn't have stayed. Not the way he was going. He'd had to leave.

**_LIAM, DAY 253_ **

_You never said goodbye to me_. That’s what Liam wanted to scream. Zayn left and went away and he didn’t think to say goodbye to Liam. After five years, Liam had thought that they were close - turned out he was wrong. Liam watched Zayn hang his head. A bitter sense of satisfaction curdled in his belly. _Good,_ he thought spitefully. _Hate yourself._

"Okay, you’re sorry. If you're done, please leave," Liam said.

"I came all this way and that's all you have to say to me?"

"Zayn, I'm not the one who ran out on people who were relying on him to have their backs."

"I've already apologised for that." Zayn bounded across the room and stood opposite Liam. "What do you want? Tears? Blood? ‘Cause I can give you that, no problem."

"I don't want anything from you." Liam walked away, not even sure where he was headed. "I hate you."

Zayn was close on his heels. "I don’t believe you."

Liam stopped in his tracks and swivelled around, his chest colliding with Zayn's. "It’s true. I hate you."

"No, you don’t."

Liam's blood boiled in his veins. Two hundred and fifty-three days of bleeding from the arteries, changing phone numbers constantly when he knew soft-hearted Harry had handed his number over to Zayn, months of pretending to be okay in front of cameras and speaking well wishes. He was done keeping it all in. He was _livid_. He wanted to hit something. No, he wanted to hit Zayn. Bloody hell. Liam spun around and headed to the kitchen. Zayn followed after him. 

"You're wrong," Liam said.

"If you hate me, then why do you keep saying nice things about me?"

"Simon says we mustn’t-" Liam grimaced. That sounded pathetic to his own ears.  "Media training - you've had it."

"Bullshit," Zayn spat.

He was right. The truth of the matter was Liam knew that there were people in the industry who were glad that Zayn had left One Direction. From the first award show he had attended, he and the other lads had always felt like outcasts. They were the untalented, all-singing puppets who had no right sitting in the VIP section at award ceremonies, let alone actually winning any awards. Liam knew that the band had to show a unified front and keep doing shows, selling records just to prove they weren’t a punchline to some joke. Liam reached into the fridge and pulled a can of beer out.

“Zayn, you've cleared your chest and said your two-bit apology. Could you graciously leave my home?" Liam punctuated the sentence by cracking the can open. He guzzled it as he waited for Zayn to leave.

Zayn sat down on the barstool, tapping his fingers on the granite top counter. "It was not a decision I made lightly."

 Liam sipped his beer. If there was anyone who was temperamental and made important decisions abruptly, it was Zayn. So excuse Liam if he wasn’t swallowing any of this down.

Zayn sighed. "Do you want to hear it or not?"

Liam placed the half-drank can on the counter. He shouldn’t allow himself to be pulled in and become putty in Zayn's hands, but curiosity was getting the best of him.

"Okay, tell me," Liam said. "Why did you leave? And don’t feed me that shit about wanting to be ‘normal’."

Zayn took a breath and began speaking.

**_ZAYN, DAYS 1-10_ **

The decision to leave the group was not one Zayn made overnight.

It wasn't the proverbial straw breaking the camel's back or whatever nonsense the media had tried to spin. He wasn't a sulking Casanova who couldn't accept that he'd been caught with his pants down. He wasn't a deserter or traitor. Or, at least, he didn't think he was.

Zayn can’t remember the exact point in time when he knew he didn't want to be part of the One Direction machine. There were so many things about being part of the band over the years that got his goat. The frequent flying from this city to that city, the lack of privacy, and the fake relationship. ‘S _howmance’_ , Louis had told him, was the official name for. _Look it up_. Zayn had. Two years of showmancing and a year and half of a showgagement had made him realise that when it came to One Direction, there really was no end in sight. Sort of like that Ken Follet classic ‘World without End’ except in this case it was 'Boyband without End'.

If it was up to Cowell, being the megalomaniac Machiavellian he was, the five of them would keep touring well into their fifties. It was a depressing idea. As long as there was blood to be squeezed out of a stone, Cowell would squeeze until there was nothing but dust.

#### ***

They were in Hong Kong and for the umpteenth time in four years, Zayn was in a middle of a scandal. Nothing new here. Sure, as the sun rose and set, magazine rags made up shit to sell papers. Usually he'd shrug something like this off, but it kept coming back to him - unrelenting, perpetual. How many more years of this shit would he put up with?

He'd made a decision a long time ago. In fact, they all had - when it stopped being fun, they would quit. It stopped being fun for Zayn years back. Louis hadn't been lying in that stupid ‘weedgate’ video. Sometimes it did take smoking a blunt to get the nerve to climb onto a stage. No matter how many times he had done it before, waiting in the wings to do a show always freaked him out. Especially when it felt like there were seemingly a million more concerts to go with no end in sight.

#### ***

The time it took for him to enact his motion to leave Hong Kong from inception to realisation was a total of forty-five minutes.

 Over the years, he'd gotten the rep of being the tardy one. Not this time. He'd dialled for a taxi, booked a private jet, packed his bags, and was out of the hotel in fifteen minutes. Ten minutes to arrive at the airport. Fifteen minutes checking in. Five minutes later he was boarding a flight headed straight to Heathrow Airport.

#### ***

The next three days were a mess. He didn't speak to any of the other lads, leaving it in the capable hands of his lawyers. Somehow, his contract was dissolved, though with a couple of clauses. He couldn’t release an album for two years. _Whatever_. No bad mouthing the company. He would give The Sun an exclusive interview. _And_ he had to stay in a fake relationship for another twelve months. That last clause had made him pause, but if it meant getting his freedom, he could do it. He'd signed the contract. Simon Jones penned the statement and Modest released it an hour later; Zayn had officially left the band.

#### ***

He should have been over the moon. Hell, he should have been ecstatic. He was free. He'd broken his strings. He could do anything. Go anywhere. Except, he couldn’t; Modest hired paps and they lurked outside his house. Every step he took outside was monitored, documented, and uploaded to be commented on. Instead of loosening his shackles, he'd somehow made them tighter, the size of his world shrinking from continents to a couple thousand square feet of his home.

The worst thing was Liam. Oh, Liam. The guilt had been eating at him since he boarded the plane back to the UK. Zayn didn’t know what to say to him, so he decided not to say anything at all. It was daft and cowardly, but it was all he could manage.

With his newly acquired time, Zayn started a new habit; tracking Liam. On YouTube, he watched the rest of the tour unfold. There were videos of Liam speaking at the first concert since Zayn ‘officially’ left the band. He didn’t mention Zayn by name. The next week, Liam posted a long tweet that made Zayn finally swallow down his fear and call Liam for the first time. The phone just rang. The thing was, Zayn _knew_ Liam was near his phone, he had just tweeted from it. Zayn tried again. His phone call was answered by voicemail.

 The next day Zayn awoke to see videos of Liam, Harry, Niall, and Louis taking a horrible 'four piece' selfie. He slammed his laptop shut, thinking that Liam looked far too happy without him. He stopped tracking Liam for a few days until they had their next show in Dubai where Liam had said seven words that changed everything – ‘We are good, I can promise that’.

Zayn re-watched the blurry video, making sure he’d heard correctly. Yes, Liam had said that things between them were _good_. This was news to Zayn - he hadn’t spoken to Liam in weeks, what with the other lad ignoring his calls and emails. It certainly didn’t feel like their friendship was good from Zayn’s side. It couldn’t be further from good, which meant that Liam was lying to the fans, telling them what they wanted to hear. Maybe Zayn could fix this; he could make things better between them. He just needed to get Liam in a room for a few minutes.

Thinking it through, he realised he had been going about it the wrong way. If he was to get a hold of Liam, he needed a bridge. Someone who would be amiable to listening to his pleas. Harry. Zayn grabbed his phone and dialled Harry.

**_LIAM, DAY 253_ **

"Harry kept denying it, but I knew it was him who handed out my new number to you," Liam said. He dropped the beer can in the bin before he stood, crossing his arms nonchalantly before he regarded Zayn. "How did you butter him up? He was cross with you for leaving - never seen him that mad before."

Zayn shrugged. "I just told him the truth; that I wasn't coping with the touring and lack of privacy and the insanity of it all. He wouldn't take my calls for weeks, but one day he did and when he didn’t hang up immediately, I knew I had him." Zayn stood up and walked towards Liam. "I'm sorry that I hurt you. If I could go back and do it all differently, I would, but I can’t, and we can only go forwards now."

Liam looked away, unable to stand the weight of those brown eyes on him. He felt trapped in his own house and the anger in him was depleting by the second. He could never stay mad at Zayn for as long as he had known him. And that inability was a fucking curse because Zayn had no right coming into his house after all this time and get a free pass for everything he had done. Liam brushed past Zayn, heading back to the living room.

"I forgive you. We're cool. You can leave." Liam sat on his couch and reached for the remote just so he could have something in his hands.

"You’re just saying the words." Zayn sat on the couch beside Liam.

"I could call the police and have you escorted off the premises."

"The papers will just love that. I can already see tomorrow’s headlines. ‘One Direction's Liam Payne kicks former bandmate out his house.’"

"I've said I forgive you. What else do you want?"

"I want you to say it and _mean_ it, Liam." Zayn's eyes blazed.

"Just like you meant it when you said you would tell us if it got to be too much and you weren't enjoying it anymore? Just like that?"

"I was wrong, but you're always been the even-keeled one."

"Even-keeled?" Liam echoed. He had always been short-tempered. How the hell did Zayn think he was the ‘even-keeled one’? "Well, I'm done with that. Get out of my house." Liam threw the remote aside and stood up, looming over Zayn threateningly. Zayn calmly looked up at him.

"No."

"Zayn, I'm not kidding. Just leave."

"No."

Liam grabbed Zayn roughly by the arm and tried to frogmarch him out of the living room. His heart rate was up and he could feel his temple throb. Why couldn't Zayn just leave? Why did he have to be so stubborn? There was nothing left to be said. Things were ruined. Anything they could have had had been lost the minute Zayn decided to leave.

If he had just spoken to Liam, maybe Liam would have left with him too because being in the band without him wasn't the same. He'd hadn’t realised it before, but no matter how far they travelled from home, or how alienated the media made them from normal people, Zayn had made it sort of okay. Shards of glass had been scraping Liam from the inside for months because Zayn had left and it hadn’t been the same and he hated it so much - being in the band, being on tour.

Zayn planted his feet down stubbornly and wouldn’t budge. That’s the thing about Zayn; the lad was deceptively skinny. Liam wrapped his arms around Zayn's middle and tried to lift him. Zayn budged half an inch. Liam reached boiling point and he removed his arms from Zayn and shoved him _hard_.

"Yeah, get it out," Zayn said.

Liam was infuriated. Without thinking, his right hand curled into a fist and he raised it ready to strike. He paused mid-air. He couldn't do it. God, he was pathetic.  He stared at Zayn, who made no move to shield himself from the would-be blow. Liam cursed and dropped his hand.

"What do you want from me?" Liam asked.

"I want things between us to be the way they were before I left."

"Too much shit has happened for that to even be a remote possibility."

 There was a volcanic eruption of fury in Liam's veins. He was so fucking mad at Zayn. He could burn up from it all. He reached for Zayn, intending to lead him to his front door. This time, when his hands curled around Zayn's shoulders, he found himself pulling Zayn in. He propelled Zayn forward and planted a hard, unforgiving kiss on Zayn's lips.

**_ZAYN, DAYS 45-60_ **

Zayn was sitting his living room, his stereo blaring. On the coffee table he had a bag of heroin. A spoon, syringe and lighter were also on the table. In the past, he’d never done heroin. Weed was his thing, coke on occasion. Injecting something into his veins seemed like a one way road to hard-core addiction.

He reached for the brown powder and poured it onto a spoon. Next, he tied a tube around his arm and flicked the lighter on, hovering it under the spoon. He watched the liquid burn golden and he drew the liquid up the syringe. Zayn paused, holding the needle to his vein. He wanted reprieve. He wanted to escape. He wanted to be free. He didn't want to think.

 Millions in the bank and millions of fans who doted on him, yet he hated every second of his life. He pressed the needle to his tattooed skin and paused when he saw a bead of blood bloom. What would Liam think of him now? He couldn't do this. He pulled the needle from his skin and threw it onto the floor and wept.

#### ***

His head was pounding and his mouth was dry. For a second, Zayn wasn't sure what had awoken him until he heard it again. A hum of a bass. He climbed with one foot off the bed, holding onto his head. He dared to open one eyelid. The room was dark, but he had the feeling it was day outside. He place his other foot down and something rolled from underneath; the bottle of vodka he had taken to bed with him last night.

Zayn uncurled his spine and crept like an old man to his bedroom door. The sounds became louder as he opened the door, bass vibrating up the walls. Snickering. Half-muted voices. The party was still going on. He leaned against the wall and made his way down the stairs into the main living room. The place was a mess. There were bottles of liquor strewn on every surface, half-drunk glasses of whiskey, cigarette butts on ashtrays, and a bag of cocaine. Zayn followed the voices that were coming from the outside patio.

His cousin and a few of his friends were lighting up joints by the pool. In the middle of the pool, half-drowned, was Zayn's leather couch, but that wasn't what made him awaken from his booze-induced despondency. On the patio floor, glass broken and canvass half bisected, was his Bob Marley painting.

Zayn kicked them out and picked up the painting, carrying it into the house and placing it on his dining room table. He stared at it. It wasn’t the fact that the painting was expensive. He could afford a dozen others, but he had just really loved this painting. Feeling frustrated, he fished his phone out of his jean pocket, googling 'art restoration' and found a few local websites. He picked one at random and asked for a house call.  

A few hours later, he heard someone buzz at his front gate. Zayn checked the monitor and almost stopped breathing. There was a lad in a white sedan, looking up at the camera. He wore a red Obey snapback, that combined with the shape of his face and his colouring – he resembled Liam. On the computer monitor, Zayn held out his hand and touched the cap of the guy. He realised he hadn't responded, so he spoke into the intercom and told the Liam lookalike that he could come straight through. A few minutes later the guy was knocking on his front door and Zayn opened it.

"Hi, I'm Finn. The gallery sent me." The guy took his cap off as he spoke, pointing to the name-badge he wore. He looked like he was in his late teens or early twenties. Finn was tall, maybe 6ft3 or 6ft4. Athletically build with broad shoulders. Up close, he did vaguely resemble Liam, although his eyes were wrong; they were a dark, denim blue.

"The painting is in the dining room." Zayn led the way, not bothering to check if Finn was following after him. When they entered the dining room, he pointed to the Bob Marley portrait on the table.

"Don't worry, the gallery will fix this no problem." Finn set a toolbox Zayn had not noticed him carrying on the floor and pulled out a few items. He started measuring and jotting down notes on an A5 notebook. His arms were tan and pleasantly muscular as if he spent some time in the gym, but they were tattoo-less and clean. Boring. "We'll have to remove the remaining glass and repair the canvass before we touch up the paint."

Finn ran his hands over the ornament frame, focused and all business. Zayn watched Finn as he spoke, barely listening to what he was saying; something about needing to get the portrait back to the gallery. Finn had a mole just above his lip. His teeth were white and even. His voice was pleasantly deep, although the intonation was all wrong.

"Yeah, sounds like a plan." Zayn walked over to Finn, placing his hand on the guy's arm in a familiar, blatantly sexual way. He looked up at him. "How much?" Zayn asked, his tone suggesting that he wasn’t requesting an art restoration quote.

Finn's throat bobbed uncomfortably. Maybe he was straight, but he knew who Zayn was and that might be enough to entice him to do things he normally wouldn't do. Plus, Zayn had turned a few straight lads in his time. He was a good-looking bloke after all. Zayn brushed his arm up Finn's when the other lad had been silent for too long.

"I'm not-" Finn swallowed thickly.

Zayn instantly removed his hand from Finn's arm. What the hell was he thinking? Propositioning some lad just because he looked _slightly_ like Liam. And what if this guy went to the papers? This was the stuff sexual harassment lawsuits were made of. 

"I'm sorry. My mistake," Zayn said while he internally berated himself.

"I mean - not like that.” Finn ran his hand through his short hair. “I sort of volunteered when my boss told me who the customer was. We all did. Luckily she likes me and I was selected to be sent out.” He smiled shyly, somehow managing to look up at Zayn even though he was way taller than Zayn. “It’s not every day I get the opportunity to meet my celebrity crush.”

 Finn stepped forward and placed his palm on Zayn's cheek, leaning down. Startled, Zayn moved away.

"I don’t kiss on the lips," Zayn said, feeling like an arse when Finn’s face fell.  To distract Finn from focusing on the no kissing rule, Zayn wrapped his hands around him, pulling their bodies closer.

 Finn smelt like department store cologne and the feel of his body was unfamiliar and foreign. Desperately, Zayn called to mind images of Liam in his head. Liam smiling at him during a show. Liam dancing goofily in the bus. Liam stepping out of the shower, a white terry cloth wrapped around his waist.

 Zayn ran his hands up and down Finn’s arms, trying to bask in the illusion that it was Liam he was holding, not some boy he’d known for less than ten minutes. He wouldn’t think too much how pathetic and sad this was. He buried himself in Finn’s arms, precariously close to tears. Finn must have sensed he was getting emotional because he began to rub Zayn’s back soothingly.

“Hey, are you okay?” Finn asked. Zayn extracted himself from the embrace and walked around the dining room table. He picked up the red Obey snapback.

"Put this back on.” Zayn handed it to Finn without meeting his eyes. He sank down on a nearby chair, watching Finn do as he asked. Zayn reached for his trouser zipper and pulled it down, parting his knees to make room for Finn, who knelt between Zayn’s thighs.

Zayn reached out a hand and adjusted the snapback so it covered more of Finn’s face. Once it was in place, he trailed his fingers across Finn’s jaw with reverence. From this angle, he could almost convince himself that the boy going down on him was Liam.

#### ***

He took a shower as soon as Finn left, then he participated in what had become his full time occupation; stalking Liam online. The second leg of the tour was over and the band was on a break, which meant that Liam was probably in the country. Zayn dialled the new number Harry had given him. A bored, computerised voice told him that the number he had just called did not exist. Zayn sighed and placed his phone face down on his bed.

This wasn't the way to spend his days; obsessively tracking Liam everywhere he went, breaking down everything Liam tweeted, trying to see if there were coded messages meant for him. Liam was angry with him. It was understandable; a lot of people were. With given cause.

Over the years, Zayn had wondered if there was more to him and Liam apart from being just mates. They were close - the confinements of fame made it so. But after a while, when he'd find himself staring at Liam a bit too long and he knew that this was more than just friendship. He was in love with his best friend. And it sucked, being close to Liam, without really _being with_ him, so he’d fled the band. Little had he known that having less contact with Liam would be constant agony. Zayn reckoned open-heart surgery probably didn't hurt like this.

**_ZAYN, DAY 253_ **

Liam was kissing him.

Zayn froze in place, not knowing what to do, his mouth slack and half open against Liam's as Liam's tongue lashed in and out of Zayn's mouth, his fingers digging into Zayn's shoulder. Zayn pulled away, ending the kiss. Liam stared at him, breathing hard as he wiped his mouth with the back of his left hand.

"Leave," Liam said. A warning. Well, Zayn didn't scare easily.

"Or what?" Zayn stepped forward, his chest brushing against Liam's. Zayn grazed his lips against Liam's as his hands landed on Liam's shoulders. His heart was a runaway train, speeding along on the rail tracks, but he couldn't stop. His hunger made him fearless. Liam didn't pull away or try to stop the kiss.

Zayn grew bold, running his hands down Liam's sides while he pressed his body against Liam's. His cock was getting hard in his trousers, the feel of Liam against him heating his blood making him want more, but he hadn't come here for this. As clear thoughts entered his mind, he shoved Liam away, panting as he watched Liam watch him through half-closed eyes.

"I’m not here for sex,” Zayn said.

"Who said I'm going to sleep with you?" Liam asked. Zayn felt a spike of irritation and he lurched forward and reached for Liam's belt buckle, looking at Liam as he unbuckled, then yanked it free from the loops of Liam’s jeans. Liam met him dead in the eye, not falling for the gay-chicken or whatever it was that was going on here.

"I'm going to do it." Zayn dropped the belt on the floor and pulled down Liam’s zipper in a swift motion.

"If that's what you want." Liam held his hands up.

It was so placating that it made Zayn’s temple buzz with annoyance. Why couldn't Liam just admit that he was angry at him because Zayn had hurt his feelings? Why was he acting as if he wasn't the one who had just kissed Zayn a minute ago? Zayn dropped to his knees and angrily shoved Liam's jeans down his thighs. Zayn looked up at Liam and waited.

Zayn’s heart was beating too fast in his chest, his mouth Sahara dry. Liam would call this off and Zayn would get to his feet and leave. He hadn’t gotten the forgiveness he had been seeking, but at least he’d been able to see Liam in person because he had missed him so fucking much these past eight months.

Liam was stone-faced and immobile. Zayn reached for Liam’s boxers, half-expecting Liam to protest. When Liam didn’t, Zayn yanked Liam's boxers down, revealing Liam's semi-hard cock. Zayn reached for Liam's cock with his right hand and drew the head of it to his mouth. Liam made a soft, gasping noise and Zayn paused, waiting to see of Liam would do anything else. Nothing. He continued sucking Liam.

Zayn’s heart was still beating a rapid tattoo in his chest, his blood pulsing in his veins and he could hear the pornographic wet suckling noises as he blew Liam. He drowned it all out, focusing on the rigid flesh in his mouth. He worked his jaw and throat, his hands stroking the base of Liam's dick. His own cock was as hard as iron in his trousers, but he ignored his own arousal, working on getting Liam to come so he could lap down every single drop, fucking drink the milk of paradise like Kubla Khan. He sped up the pace of his strokes, bobbing his head up and down.

“Stop,” Liam said quietly. Zayn removed Liam’s dick from his mouth, dropped his hands and sank onto the floor. Liam pulled his jeans back into place. He yanked the zipper up and did the button before he looked at Zayn. “I always wondered what it would feel like getting sucked off by you. It’s nothing special. Get the fuck out of my house.”

Zayn nodded once and got up. He walked out through the passage, into the vestibule, and out the front door. Once the door was shut behind him, he took one staggering breath before he climbed down the stairs and into his car.

**_LIAM, DAY 110_ **

The band was on its North American leg of the tour. Liam had enjoyed his break, spending time at Disneyland and visiting Universal Studios with his family. The random phone calls from the mystery caller had ceased and he wasn’t sure if he should be pleased or saddened by that.

He'd unblocked the number, intending to answer it next time it called, but when his phone lit up last week all he could do was stare at it as it buzzed on the hotel room bed. He didn't trust himself to speak to Zayn civilly. This was probably for the best.

There was a knock on the door and he said, ‘come in’. Harry poked his head in.

"Hi, Liam." Harry walked in, followed by Louis and Niall. They were carrying a duffel bag and Liam instantly knew he wouldn’t like the next couple of words that left their mouths.

"What are you doing?" Louis asked too casually as he sat on the bed.

"Nothing."  Liam glanced at the duffel bag. "What's in the bag?"

"We were talking earlier and we realised that we never really had a pow-wow about Zayn leaving," Harry said.

Niall nodded. "It's like we haven't put his spirit to rest."

Liam rolled his eyes. "Zayn's not dead."

"Yes, but the way you're carrying on, one would think he was. We need to say goodbye to him properly," Harry said.

Liam glanced at Louis. "Are you going along with this?"

Louis nodded. "It sort of makes sense. It's like that episode of Friends where Rachel, Monica, and Phoebe did that cleansing ritual for their failed relationships. We need to do something similar for Zayn so we can commit to this new chapter of the band."

Liam sighed and rolled off the bed. At this stage, he would agree to anything just to get them off his back. "Okay, what do you want me to do?"

Harry smiled and held up the duffel bag. “We've all brought items that we associate with Zayn. We're going to say some words then burn said items."

"That’s going to set off the smoke detectors," Liam said.

"The laddie makes a valid point," Louis said. "Drats, I was looking forward to this."

"We could do it in the bus," Niall unhelpfully suggested. "There aren't any smoke detectors there. Plus, there's an extinguisher if the fire gets out of hand." Liam watched as Harry nodded in agreement.

"The bus makes better sense," Harry looked at Liam. "Are you coming with us?" Liam's phone started to vibrate again and he didn't need to glance at the screen to know that familiar number he was certain belonged to Zayn was calling him again. "Are you going to answer that?"

"No." Liam rejected the call and climbed off the bed.

"Do you have an item to burn?" Niall asked.

"How about you lot go to the bus and I'll look for something," Liam said. Niall and Louis nodded their heads and stood. Harry didn't look convinced.

"I think I'll wait for Liam. I wouldn't want him getting lost on his way to the bus." Harry handed the duffel bag to Niall and Louis and they left the room. Liam walked to the hotel's wardrobe and pulled out his travelling suitcase onto the floor. He unlocked it and began rummaging through it. He was aware of Harry lurking in the background, watching him.

"What are you looking for?" Harry asked.

"That Hulk glove Zayn gave me," Liam replied. He and Zayn had visited Marvel Studios back in 2013. Zayn had received a pair of Hulk gloves to commemorate the new Ghost Rider inspired by him. Zayn had given Liam one glove, keeping the other for himself. Liam, who had felt stupidly pleased over the impromptu gift, had hung onto it, carrying it in his suitcase wherever he went.

Liam found it tucked behind a few T-shirts. He pulled it free and stared at it. He heard footsteps and then Harry was crouching down beside him, reaching for one oversized finger.

"Are you sure you want to burn it?" Harry asked.

"I won't miss it." Liam zipped up his suitcase, stood it up and then dragged it back into the wardrobe. “Let’s find the other lads."

He and Harry walked out his hotel room, took the lift downstairs, and exited the hotel, walking to the parking lot where the tour busses where parked. They climbed inside Louis’ bus and went to the back where Niall and Louis were waiting. Louis held out a metal dust bin.

"Found a bin we could use." He placed it on the floor. "So, how do we do this?"

"We take out the item we want to burn, say a few words, then throw it in," Harry said. "Who wants to go first?"

"We could do it alphabetically," Louis said. "Harry, Niall, Liam, then me."

"Surnames are better; Horan, Payne, Styles, and Tomlinson," Niall said.

"It doesn't make much of a difference," Louis interjected.

"Let's not split hairs. We'll just speak when we want to speak." Harry stepped forward and pulled an A4 page from the duffel bag. "I'm not going to read this out because it's personal, but it's an email Zayn sent me. I was feeling like crap at the time because of the paps always hounding me and he sort of put things in perspective. I always read it whenever I feel down." Harry held the page by the corner and pulled out a lighter from his jeans. He lit the page and dropped it in the bin.

 “I remember when I was little, like 10 or 11, I watched a documentary on adventurer Sir Ernest Henry Shackleton. He was on an Antarctica expedition in 1914 when there was an accident and most of the people on his expedition team were killed, leaving him with just two crew members.” Harry was staring at the bin where the page had curled, incinerating.

“They trekked through the snow for days and during the journey, Sir Shackleton said that he felt as if they were being accompanied by another person. Someone who was guiding them to safety. A third man.  Zayn's not here, but he's here all the same. To quote Sir Shackleton, it seems to me that we are not four, but five.” Harry nodded and stepped back.

Louis pulled out a half-smoked joint from his jeans. "This is the last joint I shared with Zayn. Been saving it to smoke, but I feel it just won't be the same. He was a cool band mate and I wish him all the best." He lit the joint, took a huff, and dropped it in the bin.

Niall stepped forward. "Zayn’s not a sports nutter like myself, but he allowed himself to be dragged to a football game with me this one time. We had fun. It was things like that, trying to understand golf, ‘cause I liked it. Getting me a signed autograph from Ernie Els when he met him. He could really be considerate and I just- I don’t know. I’m glad we had that one sports day together."

Niall pulled out a yellow football shirt and threw it in the bin. He lit a match and dropped it, watching the Malik 22 letters on the jersey burn. He, and the rest of the lads, glanced at Liam.

"I guess it's my turn." Liam cleared his throat. "Zayn gave this to me." Liam held out the green glove for the other lads to see before he pressed it to his chest. "I've sort of been travelling with it since, because I figured it was good luck or something. Which is sort of ironic because my mum is dead convinced that the colour green is unlucky."

 Liam was supposed to drop the glove in the bin and let it turn to ash, but his stupid arms wouldn’t respond, and he couldn't let go. _Flames to dust, lovers to friends – why do all good things come to an end?_  

“And I want to say I miss him and I cherish the time I spent with him and I’m grateful I got to know him- I can't, I'm sorry." Liam spun on his heels, the glove held close to his chest, and raced off the bus.

**_LIAM, DAY 253_ **

Liam paced his living room, his skin a livewire. Zayn had no right to show up at his home months after he left without so much as a goodbye note. His dick was still hard, pressed against his zipper, and he knew he wasn't thinking when he ran out of his house, intending on calling Zayn back. He was too late; Zayn was gone. Liam roughed a hand through his hair and marched back into his house, grabbed his car keys, and climbed into his car.

He drove to Zayn's house, not sure what he would do when he got there. He gripped the steering wheel as his heart lurched uncomfortably in his chest. He just wanted to stop feeling like crap all the time. A couple of hours of meaningless sex with Zayn might provide him with that. He would use Zayn, get off, then walk away like Zayn had. That’s what he would do.

He remembered the last time he had been at Zayn’s house, when Zayn celebrated his 21st. God, a lifetime ago. The night when he realised he was in love with his best friend. He returned home afterwards to his old place, a high rise flat, where he climbed on the balcony, and thought about jumping, ending it all, because life seemed to be one cruel joke. All his dreams had come true and he had gotten everything he had ever wanted, but he was unhappy. If money and fame and all those things that normal people coveted didn't bring him happiness, then what would? He'd come close to jumping, stopping when he thought about his parents having to identify his disfigured corpse at the morgue.

He arrived at Zayn's and pressed the intercom bell. The gate opened and he drove through. Liam parked his car in front of the house, walked up to the front door, and knocked angrily. Zayn opened.

 "Just because I want to fuck you doesn't mean I hate you any less," Liam said as he walked in. He took off his T-shirt and threw it on the floor. "Where's your bedroom?"

Zayn closed the door and locked it. "It's upstairs."

Liam mounted the stairs and opened random doors until he found a room that looked like Zayn's. He walked inside and unzipped his trousers, pulling them off. He kicked his shoes off and turned to find Zayn behind him, also undressing. When they were both naked Liam walked towards Zayn and kissed him on the mouth, devouring him with his lips and tongue, his teeth clashing painfully against Zayn's. He bit down on Zayn's mouth until he tasted blood. When he pulled away, he saw that Zayn's bottom incisors were raspberry red.

Liam felt a sick sense of satisfaction and he turned away, climbing onto the bed. Zayn walked around the bed, pulling out a condom and lube from the night stand. He was handing the condom to Liam when Liam shook his head and said, "I want you to fuck me."

Liam didn’t trust himself not to try and hurt Zayn right now and Zayn looked like he felt guilty enough to allow Liam to go to town on him and pound away. Zayn climbed onto his bed, condom and lube in hand. He glanced down at Liam before he leaned over Liam’s groin, drawing Liam’s dick into his mouth. Liam’s eyes closed. He had missed Zayn so much. Bereft. That was what he had been when he'd not been able to see Zayn every day. He'd been mourning the loss of him for the last eight months and hadn't even realised it until now.

Zayn’s mouth felt good on his dick. Liam had been lying earlier, saying Zayn’s blowjob technique wasn’t anything special. Zayn seemed to have kept Liam’s words in mind because he was fucking inhaling Liam’s dick. The lewd, suction sounds he was making were wetter and sloppier than his earlier attempt. It felt like heaven, having his dick in Zayn’s wet, warm mouth. Too good. Liam placed his hands on Zayn’s shoulders, pulled Zayn off his cock, yanked him upwards, and flipped Zayn onto his back.

Zayn gasped for breath and said, "I think we should-"

"I don't want to talk to you." Liam straddled Zayn.

"This isn't going to solve-"

Liam shut Zayn up by leaning over and kissing him, his hands roaming over Zayn’s body, searching and feeling. Liam pulled away and looked down at Zayn, whose eyes were half-closed, his hair sex-ruffled, his lips red and glossy.

“I hate you,” Liam declared.

But as much as he wanted to hate Zayn, he couldn’t. He’d even listened to the  ‘I hate Zayn Malik’ playlist Louis had made, screaming along with Billie Joe Armstrong, ‘ _I hate you dickhead, fuck face, cock smoking, mother fucking, asshole, dirty twat, waste of semen, I hope you die’_ – still nothing.  No hating Zayn. Not then, possibly not ever. 

Liam grabbed the bottle of lubricant and condom from where Zayn had placed them on the bed. He opened the bottle and distributed some liberally on his fingers before he hitched his hips up, eyes locked on Zayn’s as he prepared himself to get fucked.  Zayn was so still he didn’t look like he was breathing, his cock sticking straight up in the air, thick and swollen.  

Liam squeezed his own cock before he slid a finger into himself. Zayn got onto his elbows and placed his hands on Liam’s splayed thighs. Liam slid another finger in, enjoying the feel of something inside of him. He eyed Zayn’s hard cock, imagining what it would feel like to have it splitting him open. Filling him up.  His arousal increased when Zayn reached an arm across the bed for the condom, tearing it open and sliding it onto his cock.

Zayn kept his eyes on Liam as he found the lube and coated his cock with it. Liam raised his hips up, pulling his fingers free. He leaned forward and grabbed Zayn’s dick roughly, positioning it against himself. He took a breath when Zayn thrust his hips up, the head of his cock breaching Liam.

Liam leaned forward, pressing Zayn down on the bed as he took over, riding Zayn’s cock, using Zayn for his own pleasure, while holding him down. He lifted his hips, sliding down, repeating the motion. Zayn’s cock was thick inside of him, and for the first time in months, Liam didn’t feel hollow. He felt alive, his blood heated, his cock rock-hard, every nerve on edge as Zayn’s cock stroked him from the inside.

Liam leaned over and bit on the side of Zayn’s neck. He latched his teeth, almost breaking the thin skin. He bit again, feeling Zayn’s moan reverberate through his trachea. He latched his mouth onto Zayn’s skin, sucking as hard as he could, bringing the blood to the surface. He kept his hands on Zayn’s chest, holding Zayn down as he used him. He licked up Zayn’s neck and looked up, their eyes meeting.

This was Zayn. The boy he had been in love with for five years. The boy who stayed up with him when his grandfather had passed, crying with him. The boy who had accompanied him to the hospital when he’d hurt his arm. _Zayn._ How had they ended up like this? How had Liam allowed their relationship to disintegrate to a state where he would rather hate Zayn than admit that he loved him? He felt his eyes well up and he lifted himself up and off Zayn, all the anger deflating from him as if his heart were a burst balloon. He fell beside Zayn on the bed.

“We were supposed to-” Liam stopped. He shut his eyes not sure what he wanted to say. He and Zayn were supposed to be _something_. Epic. Forever. Making love and not fucking angrily because words failed them.

“I know,” Zayn said beside him.

“I don’t know how we got here,” Liam admitted. He wished he could go back, rewind time. Make things different. Say all the right things. Not make the same mistakes. He felt Zayn trail a hand across his ribs.

“I’m so sorry I left,” Zayn said.

“I’m sorry I said I hated you. I don’t.”

“I know. Even when you were saying 'I hate you' it sounded a lot like an 'I love you' to me."

Liam opened his eyes to look at Zayn. Five years of history between them. A shared history that was in his and Zayn's blood. Tom McRae was right; history, like love, was never enough. He'd always want more from Zayn. More moments. More time.

More love.

**_ZAYN, DAY 253_ **

Liam was staring at him, his eyes damp and filled with such sorrow that it made Zayn's heart ache more than he ever thought it was possible. He loved Liam. He pulled Liam into his arms, rubbing circles on Liam's back.

"It was scary leaving. One Direction was all I had known for the longest time and I never realised what a massive part of my identity it was. I didn't know who I was as person outside of the band, but I'm learning." He kissed Liam's shoulder. He had also learned that he loved Liam infinitely. He remembered the lines of a Spike Milligan poem, he leaned in and whispered.

“If I could speak words of water, you would drown when I said 'I love you’.” Zayn felt himself flush with embarrassment. Liam raised his head, his eyes warm.

"I like that. Sounds like a good way to go as any." Liam brushed his lips against Zayn's. "I love you too. I have for a long, long time. I was too much of a coward to say or do anything about it."

Zayn shook his head. "It doesn't matter. All of that is behind us now."

 He placed his hands on Liam's shoulders and he eased Liam onto his back, wanting a do-over and make their first time together less of an angst fest. He got on top of Liam, easing Liam's thighs apart as he stared down at him. He guided his cock inside of Liam, thrusting in simultaneously as he brushed his lips against Liam's, pressing his body as close to Liam's as he could.

"I love you, I love you, I love you," Zayn said with every thrust. Loving Liam was his leitmotif. He was never ever going to give Liam up. He realised it would be easier to cut off a limb than to be apart from Liam ever again.  If he had to bear arms, go to war, launch a thousand ships, fucking kill to keep Liam – he would.

Liam wrapped his arms around Zayn's shoulders, his legs securing around Zayn’s. Liam was panting, his cock trapped between their bodies. His choked moans sounded like sobs. Zayn thrusts were frantic and he wasn't going to last, never could when he imagined Liam when he wanked - he was surprised he had held on for so long when he was with the real thing.

He reached between his and Liam's stomachs and wrapped his fingers around Liam's hot, thick cock, jerking Liam off as he fucked him. He couldn't hold on; Zayn shuddered, coming hard. Zayn stroked Liam off faster until warm jets were spurting in his palm, dripping over his fingers. Zayn kissed Liam, still tugging at Liam's cock.

“I can’t believe we waited five years to do this,” Liam said.

“Neither can I.”

 Zayn got off Liam, pulled the condom off, tying it before he got up to throw it in the waste bin in his bathroom. When he walked back in the room, Liam had pulled up the covers and was laying on his side. He held up the covers and Zayn got in, him and Liam wrapping their arms and legs around each other. They were snuggled close, breathing each other’s air.

“I don’t want to scare you, but there was a time when it got really bad for me,” Liam said quietly. “It was the night of your 21st birthday party. I was drinking a lot at the time. I had everything money could buy, but I didn’t have you.” Liam went silent, taking a deep breath before he said.

“I was thinking about jumping off my building, ending it all. Like Kurt Cobain said, ‘it’s better to burn out than to fade away’. And I could have gone out in glory. I almost did it, but then I saw an image of my parents having to look at my mangled corpse at the mortuary and I sobered up.”

Zayn pressed his mouth against Liam’s, shushing him. He didn’t want to think what the two years would have been like if Liam had gone ahead and jumped. He closed his eyes and spoke quickly.

“After I left the band, I went to a club one night and some bloke gave me heroin to try out. I took it home and I even cooked it and had the syringe to my vein, ready to shoot up, but I stopped because I knew I could never come back from that. And I didn’t want you to ever be disappointed in me. Darkest time in my life and you saved me. You pulled me through.”

Liam kissed Zayn. “We pulled each other through. You and I.”

“And we always will from now on,” Zayn said. Him and Liam, until the end. That sounded perfect to him.

**THE END**


End file.
